Storms of the Soul
by InfinityStar
Summary: He didn't know what else to do, so he left.
1. His Last Date

She was a pretty woman, with short dark hair and a smile that almost touched his heart. Almost. Dinner was over, and she seemed nervous. That wasn't a good sign. "Let's go for a walk," she suggested after he paid the bill.

It was still early so they walked along the harbor path in Battery Park. He liked it here, and he came here often when he wanted to think. The water helped to calm him. In fact, when he had a day or two off, and he felt particularly unsettled or troubled, he would drive to the ocean, sometimes in Jersey, sometimes in Connecticut or even Massachusetts. He felt in tune with the restless tide. He especially loved it when the weather made for rough seas. Stormy seas were his favorite. Stormy...like his soul. And yet, since his partner had come into his life, he hadn't needed to seek out the calm of the ocean. All he ever had to do was call her. All he needed in his life was Eames.

"Where is your mind, Bobby?"

He shrugged. "No place in particular."

She knew he was lying. He never told anyone what he was thinking. No one but _her_. That's what everything in his life boiled down to. _Her_. Annie was tired of the competition. She had come to love sweet, considerate, charming Bobby. But loving him came with a price that she was no longer willing to pay. He had not come into this relationship alone. Annie was never able to get close to him because _she_ was always there, interfering without ever even being present. He wouldn't let anyone in, but he'd let _her_ in. It had taken time, but she finally came to realize why he never said "I love you." He didn't love her and he never would. There was room in his heart for only one woman; that's just the kind of man he was. With great sadness she realized that she would never be that woman. Why? Because another had already laid claim to him. And _she_ didn't even know it. At first she'd thought she could displace _her_. In retrospect, it had been ridiculous to even try. He was a warm and considerate lover, but even when she had his body, she still never had him. He never looked into her eyes, and she finally figured out why. That made it less personal. So she'd stopped sleeping with him, and that was the beginning of the end. They both knew it. This conversation should come as no surprise to him...but maybe what she had to say about it would. He had been walking a tightrope from the very beginning. It had been easier for him in the beginning, when their relationship was new. But it had steadily been getting harder and harder for him, and his balance was beginning to fail.

"Have you noticed anything?" she asked him, knowing he noticed everything.

"Like what?"

He was playing games now and she fought down her irritation. "Don't mess with me, Bobby."

"I..." It was no use. Why delay the inevitable? "It's over, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. But not for the reasons you think."

"Well, let's see...I'm too intense, too much to handle. I..."

"Bobby, shut up and listen to me." He complied, but only because he was giving up. She knew defeat when she saw it. "I want you to think about what I have to say." She knew he would; he thought about everything. "You have never looked into my eyes when we made love, not once. That made it easier for you to pretend I was someone else, and I am not going to do that to myself. That's why I stopped spending the night. I started to love you, but then I realized you would never love me. So I have to leave. There's no room for me here." She placed her hand against his chest. He looked at her, confused, and she knew he didn't even realize what he had done or why he had done it. Was it her place to point it out to him? She wasn't sure about that. Maybe a hint or two would help, although she suspected it would take more than hints for him to get it. He'd have to be hit over the head with it, but she was not going to be the one to do that. Once he came to the realization that there was no one else for him but _her_, his life was going to come crashing down around him. "You are a complicated man and I need someone simple. I need a man who can love me and not just be with me. Surely you can understand that." He nodded mutely. She slid her hand out of his, leaned up to lightly kiss him and said, "Good-bye, Bobby. I hope you find whatever it is you're seeking. And if you ever get over her, give me a call and maybe we can try again."

That last statement was going to hit him hard, she reflected as she headed off down the path, back the way they had come, and disappeared into the night.

_If you ever get over her_? What did she mean by that? Get over who? He continued walking along the path, lost in thought. Who was he supposed to get over? And did she really think he ever pretended she was someone else? He wasn't aware...It hit him so hard he had to sit down. So he sat in the grass, propping his arms on his legs and burying his face in his hands. _There's no room for me here._ Of course not. No woman wanted to play second fiddle to another. And he had not even realized it. He thought he'd dealt with all that months ago. How stupid could he be? That was it. He was done. He wasn't going to do this again, or put another woman through it. That night, he removed himself from the dating scene. Bobby Goren was off the market.

He pulled out his phone and dialed, waiting for the party on the other end to answer. "Deakins."

"It's Goren, Captain. I...I need to take some time off."

"What's wrong?"

"Uh, nothing...I just...need some time off."

"How much time?"

He could tell Deakins didn't believe him when he said nothing was wrong. "Uh, a week. Maybe two. No more than that."

"Have you talked to Alex?"

"No."

That surprised the captain. Goren had come to depend on his partner, especially when life got overwhelming for him. "Are you going to?"

"I...uh..." What would he tell her? She would never just accept that he needed time to be alone, and what would he tell her when she pressed him for why? "Probably not."

"Is everything ok with the two of you?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because you never leave her in the dark."

"Captain, I just need some time off. Ok? This has nothing to do with anything Eames has done or hasn't done."

Deakins sighed. "What do you want me to tell her?"

He could just see the captain's exasperated look. "I...I don't know. Just tell her I need some time off." He was getting really tired of saying that.

"She's not going to like this."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I'll talk to her later, maybe in a few days."

"I'll be honest with you, Bobby. I don't like this, either."

Goren closed his eyes and counted to ten. "Captain, I'm ok. I just...need time away...to think and-and get my head on straight."

"Something happened."

"Yes. But I'll be ok, I swear."

Deakins was quiet for a minute. Finally, he quietly said, "I want to hear from you."

"Ok."

"All right. A week. Let me know if you need more. And I'll deal with your partner. You owe me, Goren."

"Ok. I owe you. Thanks, Captain."

He sat there for awhile longer before heading back to the car. On the way home, he stopped at a florist. First, he picked out a nice arrangement for Annie. He filled out the card. _Annie, I'm sorry if I hurt you. You deserve better and I hope you find someone who will treat you right. Bobby._

The next arrangement took more time. He carefully chose her favorite flowers. In the center of it, he had them place a half dozen baby roses--two red, a yellow, a pink and two white. He thought carefully about what to put on the card. Finally he wrote, _Alex, I had to get away for a few days. I'm ok, but I didn't want to be talked out of it. I'll call you soon. Love, Bobby._

He arranged for Annie's flowers to be delivered right away and for Alex's to be delivered an hour later, when he was sure he would be on his way. Then he went home, packed some clothes, locked up his apartment and left.

He knew exactly when she received the flowers because she called him. He didn't answer, but when the phone beeped, indicating she'd left a voicemail, he listened to her message. "Bobby, what the hell is going on? What do you mean, you have to get away? I don't believe for a second that you're ok. Call me. Please. Oh, and thanks for the flowers. But you're still going to be in deep shit if you don't call me."

He ended the call and turned off the phone. He'd deal with her later...when he felt better able to talk to her. He slipped the phone into the glove box and headed out of Manhattan.


	2. Not Like Him

Eames leaned back on the couch and looked at the flowers. They really were beautiful...all her favorites. She would expect no less from him. It troubled her that he wouldn't answer the phone. She wondered if he'd had a date earlier. She went over to her desk and sifted through some papers, finally locating the one that had Annie's phone number on it. She dialed the number and waited. "Hello?"

"Hi, Annie. This is Alex Eames, Bobby's partner."

"Oh, hi." She wondered how she got her number, but only for a second. Bobby shared everything with his partner.

She sensed a hint of coldness in Annie's voice and that puzzled her. "Have you seen Bobby?"

"Earlier. Why?"

"I just got a weird message from him and I was wondering if you knew where he was."

"Alex, I broke up with him today."

"You...oh. I'm sorry. How was he?"

"He was all right with it. Actually, he didn't seem very surprised."

"How are you?"

A pause. "You know, Alex, I really did start to love him. But he just wouldn't let me in and I can't be on the outside looking in when I'm with someone. I can't."

"I understand that. Bobby just doesn't let people in."

No one, except you, Annie thought bitterly. "How is he with you?"

"My relationship with him is different. We're partners and close friends, but that's it."

So she had no idea, either. She didn't even realize that she alone had found the way to Bobby's heart, and now that path was permanently closed to anyone else. "I'm sorry. I don't know where he is but I'm sure he's fine."

She dated the man, but she didn't know him, Eames mused. She was right; Bobby hadn't let her in. "Ok. Thanks, Annie. Good-bye."

She sat down in the easy chair and was not reassured. Not at all. It was one thing for Bobby to withdraw, but he was running away, and that meant something else entirely. He had never run away from her before and she had no clue what it meant. She just knew that it was not a good thing.

-----------------------------------------

She went into work as usual the next morning. Deakins was waiting for her. "Eames, come in here please."

She knew this had to do with her absent partner. She closed the door behind her. "Yes, Captain?"

"Goren took a few days off."

She nodded. "I know."

The captain looked relieved. "Did he call you?"

"No. He sent me a message."

"Did he explain anything to you?"

"No. He just said he had to get away for a few days. What did he tell you?"

"He just said he needed some time off, to get his head on straight."

She frowned. What could he have meant by that? "Did he tell you where he was going?"

"No. I guess he knew you would go after him if he did."

She nodded. "He said he didn't want to be talked out of it."

"Did you try calling him?"

"Of course I did. He wouldn't answer, and the last few times I tried, his phone was turned off. I stopped by his apartment but he's not there and neither is his car." She sighed. "I called his girlfriend to see if she knows where he is. She said she broke up with him."

"Really? Maybe that..."

He trailed off as she shook her head. "No. I don't think so. I think there's more to it than that. If it was just a breakup, he would have called me. He'd have come over, had a few drinks and crashed on my couch. He's done that before. This is different. He's never done this before."

Deakins sighed. "I don't know what to tell you, Alex. All I can say is give him his space. He'll be back."

She nodded. "Thanks, Captain. Will you let me know if you hear from him?"

"Yes."

He watched her leave the office. She seemed genuinely concerned and puzzled by her partner's abrupt departure. That made him worry even more.

She returned to her desk and sat down. Something happened that was weighing heavily on him, something he felt he couldn't come to her with. She tried to imagine what it could be but nothing came to mind. If he couldn't confide in her, maybe there was someone else he would have confided in. Maybe...

She pulled out a phone book, looked up Lewis' Auto Body and dialed. "Lewis' Auto Body. May I help you?"

"Lewis?"

"Yeah. Who's this?"

"This is Alex Eames, Bobby's partner."

"Detective Alex!" He seemed happy to hear from her. "How can I help you?"

"Lewis, Bobby took some time off and he seems to have left town. Did he say anything to you?"

"He called me last night and asked me to go visit his mom this week. Said he had some business to tend to and he wouldn't be around for a few days. Why? Is something wrong?"

"I don't know. Did he sound ok?"

"Sure. Maybe a little tired, that's all."

"Did you know Annie broke up with him?"

"He mentioned it, but he seemed ok with it."

"Lewis, where does Bobby go when he needs to get away, to be alone?"

Lewis was quiet as he put some thought into his answer. "Well, since you've been his partner, he hasn't needed to go anywhere. But before that...since we were little, really, he always went to nature. He'd go down to the piers or to the harbor. He likes Battery Park. Sometimes he'd go to the ocean, or upstate to the Catskills, hiking and camping. One time, he friggin' went to Colorado. He likes to be alone in the woods or by the ocean when he's got to figure something out."

"When did he go to Colorado?"

"That was after his dad died. He had to come to terms with not feeling any grief over it. He wouldn't listen to me. You know how he is."

"Did you get any sense that he was troubled?"

"No, not really. Is he ok, Detective Alex?"

"I hope so, Lewis. Let me know if you hear from him, ok?"

"Sure. Bye."

She set the phone in its cradle. Lewis tried not to sound worried, but he was. He didn't even try to flirt with her and that was very unlike him. She sat there, looking at her partner's empty desk. Where the hell could he be?


	3. By The Ocean

There was a storm coming. He could smell it in the air as he headed north from the city. The temperature dropped noticably as soon as he was clear of Manhattan. He loved New York, but he needed to get away. He needed to be alone, to sort through his thoughts and his feelings without them being muddled by being close to his partner. He couldn't figure anything out with her close by. He knew she was going to worry, and he hated being the cause of any grief for her. But this was something he had to do. He'd call her tomorrow. Let her know he was ok. And he needed to hear her voice. He sighed.

He stopped just north of the city and got a room for the night. He was exhausted, and he knew it was emotion that was wearing him down. He took a hot shower and collapsed onto the bed, knowing it would be a long time before his mind would let him sleep. He turned on the television and spent some time channel surfing. It sure would have helped him choose a channel if his mind had been on the programming, but all it would do was think about her.

He got up early and checked out. He had breakfast at the IHOP down the street and headed back for I-95. The sky was still dark with storm clouds. The coming storm had apparently stalled and had not yet broken over the region. He weaved in and out among the other cars on the highway. Eames hated when he did that. She said he drove like a fighter pilot. He smiled at that memory. Even when she was no where around, she could make him smile. He saw her, in his mind's eye, sitting across from him in a booth at Delaney's, smiling... That was the moment it had first dawned on him that he was in love with her. But he knew he had to bury those feelings and bury them deep. It was ok to love her. She knew he loved her. But to be in love with her? To think of her with passion as well as affection? No. That was definitely not ok. And even thinking about the fact that she would never return those feelings...well, that just...hurt. It hurt like hell. God, he was so tired of hurting. How the hell could he turn his damn mind off?

-------------------------------------------

It was the slow season. She hated this time of year. When she got grounded, like she was now, Mom made her sit in the office like this, waiting for guests who never came. A forty room motel, and they had two guests. She looked at the clock. Ten to five. At least dinner would be soon. She looked back at the history book open on the desk and wrinkled her nose in distaste. Why should she care what happened a hundred and fifty years ago in a place she'd never been to? School was such a drag. She turned and looked out the window. That was a wicked wind out there. The breakers would be awesome high. Too bad the damn office window faced the rooms and not the beach. The storm that had been threatening would be here soon.

The bell on the front door chimed and she went out to the desk. Well...hello! Tall, handsome, nice eyes... "Hi! My name's Carrie. How can I help you?" she asked sweetly. She'd been welcoming guests to the motel all her life.

He smiled at her perkiness. "I'd like a room, please."

"One night?"

"Uh, no. I'll be staying a week, I think."

Wow...a whole week...how'd she get so lucky? "Ocean view?"

"Please," he answered.

She couldn't help smiling at him. "We've got a real nice room on the second floor. Balcony overlooks the ocean. We get $150 a night in the peak season, but since it's dead as a tomb this time of year, we only charge $50, tax included."

"That's fine."

"We're not a B and B, but since we only have three guests right now, you're welcome to join us for supper." She handed him a card. "Fill this out please. You said a week, right?"

"That's right."

"That'll be $350." He handed her a credit card. "I'll be right back."

She went into the office and ran the charge, bringing the card and credit slip back to him. "Here you are." He signed the slip and handed it back to her with the card he had filled out. She read his name and address as he put his credit card in his wallet and slipped it back into his pocket. "You live in New York? We went on a field trip there last month to the Museum of Natural History. Ever been there?"

He nodded. "A couple of times."

"What do you do in New York? Are you like a banker or something?"

A banker? He laughed softly. "No, nothing that exciting. I'm a police detective."

"No kidding? Wow...my kid brother is gonna love you."

He smiled to himself. She sure was a chatty kid. "Oh? How old is he?"

"Nine. Thinks he wants to be a state trooper."

"And how old are you?"

"Sixteen." She pulled open a drawer and removed a key, handing it to him. "Your room is 204. I can show you where it is."

"I think I can manage, thanks."

"Um, supper's at 5:30."

He shook his head. "Not tonight, thanks. Maybe tomorrow."

He left the office and got back into the car, driving it around to the parking area. Locking it up, he headed for his room. The door opened into a central courtyard that overlooked a pool that was now closed for the season, a basketball court, and a big sandbox that he assumed was for sand volleyball. A couple of barbecue grills and an assortment of lounge chairs were scattered around the courtyard.

He opened the door and went into the room. It was a nice room, clean and well-kept. He had certainly stayed in far worse places. A 27-inch television sat on the dresser and a small table and chair were in the far corner near the balcony door. He took off his jacket and laid it on the bed.Opening the sliding glass door, he stepped out onto the balcony. The Atlantic Ocean stretched out before him, wind-whipped and churning from the approaching storm. The wind lashed at him as he slid the door closed behind him. A wrought-iron chair and table were set off to the side of the balcony. He leaned on the railing and watched the sea. Ten-foot swells crested and broke with fury onto the beach. Sea spray filled the air, dampening his skin, hair and clothes. It was a cold wind, but he found it refreshing. He had spent the day wandering around the town of Mystic. He liked to come up here, to this old whaling community. It was a nice place to visit, and he loved the old whaling ships. Whaling itself he found repulsive, but it was a huge part of the history of this community, and he did love history. Thankfully, whaling _was_ history. Thunder sounded in the distance, competing with the surf to be heard. Lightning lit up the twilight sky.

He went back into the room and changed into dry clothes. He looked at the table where he had emptied the contents of his pockets, staring at his phone. Picking it up he turned it on. The phone chimed. Of course he had voicemail. The first was from Lewis. "Hey, man, what's going on? Alex is all worried about you and now I am, too. Give me a call."

Of course she would have called Lewis. If there was anything he couldn't talk to Eames about, chances were he'd go to Lewis. But he hadn't said anything to either of them. He sighed heavily as the next message queued up. It was Eames. "Bobby, please call me. This isn't like you and I am really worried. I promise I won't try to talk you out of anything. I just want to know that you are ok. Come on, please. Just call me."

He closed his eyes. She sounded upset. He sat down on the bed, his emotions as unsettled as the stormy sea just beyond the motel. There were no other messages. Taking a deep breath, he dialed her home number, hoping on some level that she wasn't there yet. It was about time for her to get home, if she'd left work right away. Deakins would not have given her a case, not without him. The answering machine came on and he wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. _Beep_. "It's just me. I'm all right, Eames. Really. I'm sorry I didn't call before I left, but this is something I really need to do. Trust me, please. I'll call you later. Don't worry about me, ok? Bye."

Next, he dialed Lewis' shop. He never left before seven. "Lewis' Auto Body."

"Hey, man."

"Bobby, where the hell are you?"

"I'm all right. I just needed some time away."

"Did you call Alex?"

"Yeah, but she wasn't home."

"She's worried about you."

"Lewis, she always worries about me."

"Yeah, you lucky dog."

Goren laughed. Lewis had a huge crush on Eames. If Eames returned the sentiment, he might be troubled by it. But she didn't, and Lewis was harmless. Of that much he was certain. He wondered if Lewis suspected his attraction to his partner. He might...no one knew him better. "I'm gonna go now, Lewis. It's storming here."

"And where is here?"

"Nice try. I'm not ready to say."

"Because you think I'll tell Alex."

"You have no will power."

Lewis laughed. "But you're near the ocean, aren't you?"

"Good-bye, Lewis."

"You gonna keep your damn phone on now?"

"Maybe."

"Ok. Bye."

He closed the phone and stared at it. He really should call her on her cell. But he wasn't sure he was really ready to talk to her. He had a lot more will power than Lewis did, but not when it came to Alex. He set the phone down on the table and left the room. Five minutes later, it rang.

-------------------------------------------------

Thunder, lightning, wind and rain...he watched the storm rage from the diner as he ate his dinner in solitude. He took his time, not really anxious to get back to the motel, knowing she would have called at least once. Lewis would have called her, not only to reassure her, but because it was an excuse to talk to her. He smiled.

After finishing his dinner, he walked back to the motel, enjoying the storm that continued to rage about the town, growing stronger, more violent. When he got back to his room, he sat on the balcony for awhile, watching the sea, illuminated by the storm. He was cold and wet, but he felt calmer. He was ready to talk to her.

It was past nine when he went back inside. He took a hot shower and slid into bed, picking up the phone as he passed the table. Four missed calls, but no voicemail. He didn't have to look to see who had called. Tucking the pillows behind him, he leaned back and pressed the '2' on his keypad. Holding the phone to his ear, he waited for her to answer.


	4. Reassurances

He was just beginning to think she wasn't going to answer, and he certainly wouldn't blame her if she didn't, when the line clicked. He heard a muffled fumbling, then "Eames."

"I woke you," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Bobby? I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"I, uh, I don't think so."

"Are you ok?"

"I told you I was."

She was awake now, certain she was indeed finally talking to her partner. "I swear, Goren, I don't know whether to be worried or pissed. What the hell is wrong with you? Why haven't you called me?"

"I did call."

"You could have called my cell and actually talked to me."

"I know."

"What, no excuses?"

"No."

She sighed, exasperated. "What's going on, Bobby?"

This was where it got hard for him. He couldn't very well say 'I had to get away because I'm in love with you and I have to get this worked out in my head or I'm going to lose my damn mind.' That wouldn't go over very well at all. He didn't want to sabotage the relationship he did have with her. But he didn't know what to tell her. "Bobby?"

"I...I have my reasons," he said lamely.

She wasn't surprised by his avoidance, so she changed the subject. "I talked to Annie."

"Oh." He didn't know what else to say. As with all his relationships, he knew the fault did not lie with Annie. But he didn't ask her what was said...he didn't want to know.

"Is that what this is about?"

"Uh, yes and no. But mostly no."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know me better than that. If it were just that, where would I have been last night?"

She smiled. "On my couch."

"Right. It's not about that. It's more something she said to me when she broke up with me."

"Oh, great...she got you thinking."

"Yeah, she did. And I didn't like where it got me. I'm just really messed up right now, and I need to straighten things out."

"Messed up how?"

"Emotionally."

"And you didn't think I could help you?"

Help him? Sure she could help him...but that wasn't part of their relationship. "Not this time."

She was quiet. "So what do I do here, Bobby?"

"Well, first of all, you quit worrying. I'm going to be fine. I just need some space, and you, of all people, have always understood that."

"Ok. Since I _always_ worry about you, what else can I do?"

"Trust me."

Those two words always did her in, and he knew it. It was a low blow and it made her mad. "Ok, Goren. If that's how you want it, fine."

"Don't be mad, Alex," he said, his voice quiet. "I...I have to know that you're ok, too. If you can trust me enough to believe me..."

"Do you think that's what this is about? Trust? You know that I trust you! Don't I give you free rein on every case we work? Come on. That's not what this is about, and you know it. You're the one with the trust issues, Bobby."

"I do have trust issues, but not with you." How did a good conversation deteriorate so quickly? He had to turn it around or he'd be in even worse shape. "I-I didn't call you to fight with you."

"Then why the hell did you call?"

"Because you were worried and I wanted you to know I'm ok. But I won't be ok if you hang up mad."

"It would help if we were doing this face to face."

"I know it would."

"We could remedy that, you know." _Here we go_, he thought. The supreme test of his resolve...saying no to his partner...to the woman he loved..._aw, shit_... "You could tell me where you are..."

"I could."

"But you won't, will you?"

"Not yet."

"I could find out, you know. I _am_ a detective."

He laughed softly. "Yes, you are. A very good detective. And I am asking you not to. Please, Alex."

"Can you at least tell me where you are? If I promise to stay put and not come after you?"

"Could you do that?"

"Yes, Bobby. I can do it." He was quiet, and she guessed he was feeling trapped. "Just out of curiosity, are you near the ocean?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because that's where Lewis told me you usually went when you were troubled, before we became partners. Unless you're in Colorado..."

He laughed. "No, Eames. I'm not in Colorado. And yes, I am near the ocean."

"Score one for Lewis."

"His score's higher than that."

"Would you at least tell me what state you _are _in?"

"Eames..."

"Never mind...if you can't trust me..."

Another blow at the trust issue. _Shit_. "I'm in Connecticut,ok? Are you happy now?"

"You don't like it when I turn it around on you, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, don't pout about it. I promise I'll give you your space if you promise me something."

"What's that?"

"Stay in touch, and quit turning off your damn phone."

"I can do that." He was quiet for a minute. He wanted to end the conversation on a good note, and the best way to do that was to catch her off her guard. "Uh, what are you doing right now?"

"What am I doing?" She was confused until she realized what he was doing. He'd done it before, and she smiled as she reflected for a second on how much she loved the man on the other end of the phone. "Well, I'm laying in bed, having the oddest conversation I think I have ever had with a man who drives me up a wall on an almost daily basis. And that's not a complaint, by the way. You are the one person in my life I don't think I'd ever want to be without. Now what are you doing?"

He sighed, an almost content sound. "Laying in bed, driving you up a wall, apparently. And I know I'd never want to be without you."

"I'm glad to hear that. Look, I do respect your need to get away, ok? Just hurry up and fix whatever it is you have to fix in that head of yours."

"I don't want to be away..." He almost said 'from you.' He must really be tired. "I need to get some sleep, and so do you."

"I feel better, you know. Thank you, Bobby."

"For what?"

"For calling me. Good night."

"Good night, Eames."

He closed the phone and set it on the bedside table, switching off the light. Turning over onto his side, he tucked an arm under his head. The curtains to the balcony were open, and he watched the lightning criss-cross the sky. The booming thunder was louder as the heart of the storm drew closer. He was still feeling unsettled, but he could rest easier knowing she wasn't upset any more. It took a long time, watching the storm and its growing intensity, before he finally drifted off to sleep.


	5. Dinner Distraction

The storm had blown over by morning. He got up just before the sun and pulled on a pair of sweats and running shoes. Leaving the room, he headed down to the beach and began to run near the waterline. Hitting his stride, he let his mind go. He wasn't surprised at all at where it went, but he went along with it, not fighting, not analyzing, not thinking. He just let himself feel. And he ran harder.

When he got back to his room, he was drenched in sweat. He took a shower and headed down to the diner to get a bite to eat. After breakfast, he walked around town again. And again, he let his thoughts flow freely. Eames. He couldn't get away from thoughts of her. His heart kept telling him _You have to tell her. Lay it all out on the table and see what she does with it. She loves you; she's not going to destroy you._

Then his rational mind would kick in. _Idiot! Confess your love and you destroy the partnership that means so much to you. Do you really want to embark on another great partner search...and lose her in the process..._

Lose her? Would a confession of love drive her away? He couldn't believe that. It very well could destroy their partnership, but it might lead to an even better partnership, one that involved her in his bed. And that would be Heaven...

But work, which he had always loved, would be hell. He and Eames worked so very well together. She complemented him perfectly. Good cop, bad cop. Bad cop, good cop. They knew exactly which role to step into and when. She knew when to push and when to back off. She knew how to read him, and he knew how to respond to her. They could set people at their ease and then destroy them with a couple of well-placed questions or statements. They could feign disagreements and anger just when they needed to, and the confessions usually came tumbling out. How could he sacrifice that for his own selfish ends? Simply put, he couldn't. If it meant giving up their partnership, he would never act on the desires of his heart. And he had to come to terms with that, because he could never give _her_ up.

Love the woman, destroy the partnership.

Ignore his heart, destroy...him.

Either way, he simply could not win. There _had_ to be another way. _Confession is good for the soul, and love is good for, well, everything,_ his emotional mind said. _Talk to her. Feel her out_, his rational mind told him. Then came another voice, one he recognized, though it had been long silent. It was the part of him that housed all his insecurities, and it spoke to him in his father's voice. _Go ahead, you fucking moron. Talk to her. Drive her away once and for all. Screw up this relationship, too; you always do. Right now you have her in your life, every day. You don't need her at night, too. _The kick of it all was that he did. Day, night, whenever...he did need her.

------------------------------------

Returning to his room, he washed his clothes in the guest laundry on the first floor, then he went out onto the balcony and leaned against the railing. The swells were bigger than normal, residual from last night's storm. He closed his eyes and listened to the waves breaking on the beach. Walking around town had done one thing for the dilemma in his mind. He had his life narrowed down to two choices: tell her or don't tell her. If he told her, he placed their partnership in the balance. If he didn't tell her, the stress of suppressing such powerful feelings would eventually take its toll on him. He wasn't happy with either scenario. There had to be a happy medium, but if there was, he wasn't seeing it.

A knock on the door drew him from his thoughts. Coming in from the balcony, he went to the door and opened it. He was mildly surprised to see Carrie on the other side. She grinned at him. "Hi."

He smiled back. "Hi."

"My mom sent me over to invite you to dinner. And Freddie is very anxious to meet you."

"Freddie--your little brother?"

"Yeah."

He thought for a minute but found no reason to refuse the invitation. All time alone was doing was driving him out of his mind. "Ok, Carrie. Dinner sounds nice."

_So does a little company_, he mused as he pulled the door closed behind him. They headed toward the stairwell, where the elevator was also located. She turned toward the elevator as he headed for the stairs. He raised a curious eyebrow at her. She smiled. "I'm a teenager; we're lazy by nature."

He laughed. "Ok. I'll meet you downstairs."

"Deal," she said.

He was leaning against the wall when she stepped off the elevator. They headed for the house, which adjoined the motel. Stopping outside the office, she said, "Hold on a sec."

Running inside, she replaced the _Be back in five minutes_ sign with one that read _For assistance, dial 88 or knock on the front door of the house._ She came out carrying her history book. He looked at it with interest. "That's your, um, history text?"

"Yeah," she said with disgust. "I hate history."

He seemed surprised. "Really?"

"It's so boring. I mean I guess it's important to know how the country came to be, but who really cares about what a bunch of guys who are dead did two hundred years ago?"

"'Those who forget the lessons of history are doomed to repeat it.'"

She looked at him oddly. "What?"

"A philosopher named George Satayana said that. We need to study history so we can learn from it and avoid mistakes that were made in the past. That's why they say history repeats itself, because people don't learn from their mistakes."

"So you're saying that if I don't learn anything from the secession of the South, I'm going to get shot and die in a cornfield in Pennsylvania?"

He looked at her for a moment before he started laughing. He liked this girl. She was smart and spunky... a lot like Eames. "No, Carrie. Not quite."

She opened the front door, which he took and held for her. She stopped in front of him and looked up at him. "So convince me that studying the War of 1812 is going to improve my life or make me a better hire than someone who is clueless about the battle of New Orleans."

She continued toward the dining room, and he followed her. "It sounds to me like you already know quite a bit about it."

"Just because I know it doesn't mean I like it."

"Hm. I've always loved history."

She looked at him, mystified. "Why?"

He gave it some thought as they stopped outside the dining room door. "It has always interested me, like cars and fishing."

"It must be a guy thing."

"No. My partner likes cars and fishing, too."

"Like I said, a guy thing."

"No," he repeated. "My partner's not a guy."

She pulled open the door and looked at him. "Really?"

"Really."

As they approached the table, a door on the far side of the room opened and a woman came through carrying a large bowl in her hands. He stepped toward her and took the bowl from her. "Here, let me help."

He set it on the table as Carrie said, "This is our new guest, Mom."

She smiled at him, but it was a tired smile. "Welcome," she said. "I am Martha Rasden."

He smiled back with a nod. "Bobby Goren. You have a nice place here."

"Thank you."

"Um, do you need any more help?"

"No, thank you. You are a guest here. Carrie, please come and get the tea."

"I'm coming, Mom."

She handed her textbook to Goren and followed her mother into the kitchen. He smiled and leafed through the book before he placed it on a table in a far corner of the room. The door he and Carrie had come through banged open and a young boy trotted in, followed shortly by a man and a woman. Carrie came in from the kitchen, placed a pitcher of iced tea on the table and addressed her brother. "Hey, Squirt, this is the guest I told you about."

A look of awe crossed the boy's face. "Are you really a New York detective?"

"Yes."

"Can I see your badge?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge, handing it to the boy. Freddie turned it over in his hands and said, "Wow...This is sooo cool!"

The door to the kitchen opened again and Martha returned to the room, saying hello to the other two guests and scolding her children. "Carrie, Freddie, leave the man alone and sit down."

Freddie handed back the gold shield as they took their places at the table, steering Goren toward the chair between them. Martha rolled her eyes as she took her place at the head of the table. She picked up a serving bowl, which apparently signalled the start of the meal.

As bowls of vegetables and a platter of carved turkey made their way around the table, Carrie introduced Goren to the other two guests. Patrick Harris was a traveling salesman, a self-described "remnant of a dying breed." Dressed in a suit, he was a young man, in his late twenties, with the air of a hustler about him. His dark hair was already touched with gray, and the small wrinkles around his mouth told Goren he was a smoker. He wore a wedding band on his left hand. Carrie introduced the woman as a nurse named Regina Drake who was in town with her fiance for his brother's wedding. At the moment, her fiance, named Bill, was at his brother's bachelor party and she had been to her future sister-in-law's bridal shower that afternoon. She was pretty, full-bodied and young, with a large engagement ring on her left hand.

Goren didn't involve himself much in the dinner conversation, preferring to watch those around him as he was wont to do. Harris monopolized much of the conversation, saving him from being more involved in it. He was certain Regina had taken more than a couple glasses of wine during the afternoon's bridal shower, since her face was flushed and she was almost too interested in the salesman's stories. His impression of Martha was a positive one. She seemed to be an attentive mother, responding to her children with patience and affection. Carrie and Freddie were well mannered, at least pretending to listen to Harris' stories, though he recognized the look of boredom when he glanced at each of them. He smiled to himself. He knew the feeling...

Halfway through the meal, a pager on Harris' belt went off. "Please, excuse me," he said as he hurried for the door.

Now what did a travelling salesman need with a pager? As if reading his mind, Carrie leaned toward him and said, "His wife is expecting and due to deliver any time."

"And he's here?"

"She's in New Jersey, so he can be there in a few hours."

"Carrie," her mother scolded. "I'm sure Mr. Goren has no interest in Mr. Harris' personal life."

He offered Martha a smile. "She's not bothering me," he assured her.

"That's kind of you, but she still shouldn't gossip."

"It's not gossip if it's true, Mom, and it's nothing bad. Just information. He's a cop; they live for that stuff."

He almost choked on his tea. She was right about one thing--he was always seeking information about people. That was just how he was. But as a cop... "We're interested in information if it's relevent to a crime. Mrs. Harris' imminent delivery doesn't really constitute a crime."

Freddie laughed. "I like you," he said.

Regina coughed politely and said, "I am going to excuse myself. I am going to meet some friends for a movie and I really have to go. Thank you for dinner. It was wonderful." She smiled at Goren. "It was nice to meet you, detective."

He smiled at her and rose as she got up. Martha smiled, as much at his manners as at the young woman. "Enjoy your movie."

That left Goren alone with the family after Harris poked his head in and said he had to hurry home, but to save his room because he'd be back the next day. Martha looked at her remaining guest. "You have nice manners," she observed.

"My mother made certain her sons had manners."

"She raised you well."

That was a matter of opinion... "Thank you."

Carrie looked up at him. "So do you like being a cop?"

Relieved at the change of topic, he nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Do you get to shoot people?" Freddie asked.

"Frederick!" his mother said, apalled.

Goren just laughed. "It's ok," he assured her, turning to Freddie. "No. I don't get to shoot people. I prefer to use words so I don't have to shoot people."

"That's boring," the boy said.

"No, it's not boring. When you shoot people, they die, and death is forever. I don't want to do that to someone unless I absolutely have to."

"Well, have you ever been shot?"

"Yes. It hurts. A lot." His face was stern. "It's not all guns and shooting, Freddie."

"So what's it like?"

"It's one of those jobs described as hours and hours of sheer boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror. Translated, that means lots of paperwork. Shootings generate a lot more paperwork, so we try not to shoot people."

Carrie was interested. "Have you ever been scared?"

"Of course I have."

"What scared you the most?"

That was easy. "When my partner got shot."

"Why did that scare you if she was the one who was shot?"

"It's, uh, not easy to explain."

Freddie leaned forward. "She?" He wrinkled his nose. "Your partner's a she?"

He looked at him. "Yes, my partner's a she. And don't look like that. She's a good partner."

"You mean you don't want a guy for a partner?"

"No, Freddie. I don't want anyone else for a partner. I've had guys as partners. A lot of them. She's the best partner I've ever had."

"Why?" Carrie asked.

Why? There were hundreds of reasons. He pushed his empty plate away and looked at the children, first one, then the other. "She always stands by me, and she's never let me down. I trust her, and that's very important to me."

"You're uncomfortable," Carrie observed.

He shook his head. "No. But I do need to go. It's getting late." He looked at their mother. "Thank you for dinner."

"If the children bothered you..."

He shook his head. "They didn't. They're great kids." He gently nudged Carrie. "Study that history. It is important."

He ruffled Freddie's hair as he got up and left the room. The children were just being children, but the truth of the matter was that the conversation had disturbed him. It wasn't their fault. If his mind weren't in such a turmoil, it wouldn't have bothered him, but in his current state...

Back in his room, he changed into sweats again and headed to the beach. It was dark, but there was a quarter moon out, adding to the lights from the seaside motels and businesses. Looking out to sea, though, he saw nothing but darkness. A cold wind blew inland across the water and he shivered. He started running, slowly at first, but his mind began to wander. He tried to concentrate on his breathing, his heartbeat, and he ran harder. He wasn't letting his mind travel tonight...just his body...


	6. A Talk With Dad

Eames pulled into the driveway of her parents' house. It was late, well after the supper hour, and her mother was probably sleeping. But her dad would be up, and he was the one she wanted to talk to. The front door was still unlocked; he was still up. She went in to the house.

John Eames looked up from his paper. "Alex? What are you doing here so late?"

"Hi, Dad. I came by to talk to you."

"Sure. Sit down. You want some coffee or something?"

"No, thanks."

He folded his paper and got up from his chair, moving to sit beside her on the couch. He tried hard not to play favorites with his children, but he had a special place in his heart for this one. She was most like him, and he was very proud of her. Three of his kids were cops, but Alex had done the best. She had the instinct and the guts to be a great cop, and she was. He'd worried about her when she worked vice, but transfering to Major Case was the best move she could have made for her career.

"You look tired, honey."

"It's been a long week."

"Week? Alex, it's Tuesday. Rough case?"

She shook her head. "We don't have a case right now."

"Is Bobby ok?"

When she looked away, thinking he wouldn't notice the tears that suddenly welled in her eyes, he knew he'd hit the nail on the head. Something was wrong with her partner and that worried him; he liked Bobby. He thought about what to say, finally reaching out to take her hand. She still wouldn't look at him. "Honey?"

"He drives me crazy sometimes, Dad."

"Alex, I always believed that being partnered with him was the best thing that could have happened for your career. I wasn't wrong. But I wonder if personally it was a good move for you."

She looked at him suddenly, and he was pleased to see the fire in her eyes. "I don't want anyone else for a partner. We are good together and I love being partners with him."

"Because you love him?"

"That has nothing to do with it..." She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, mortified at what she'd just said.

John nodded. He'd thought as much. "It's ok, Alex."

"No, Dad. It's not ok. Do you have any idea what it would do to him if Deakins splits us up?"

"Does he know?"

"That I'm in love with my partner? No. No one knows. Not even Bobby."

"How do you think Bobby feels?"

"I have no idea. I don't even know where he is right now."

"What do you mean?"

"His girlfriend broke up with him on Sunday and she said something that sent him into a tailspin. He took some time off and all I know is that he's somewhere in Connecticut."

"What did she say?"

"He won't tell me. All he says is that he needs space right now."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Part of me wants to track him down and slap him in the head. The other part wants to hug him and tell him it'll be all right."

"Which part is winning?"

"The part that wants to smack him."

He laughed. He knew his daughter. "Alex, you need to find out what triggered this."

"And how do I do that? He won't talk about it."

"Come on, sweetheart. You're a detective. Don't stop thinking like one just because he's your partner."

"And what do I do when I find out?"

"Once you know the reason, you'll understand how to handle him. You always do."

She studied her father. "Is there something you're not telling me, Dad?"

He shook his head. "You'll figure it out." He kissed her forehead. "It's late. Why don't you stay here tonight? I'll get you up at six."

She nodded. "Thanks, Dad. I'll get my bag out of the car." She always kept an overnight bag with a change of clothes in the car. She got tired of rushing home after spending the night on Bobby's couch. It happened often enough that she got smart and stashed her overnight bag in the back of the car.

John watched her leave. He hated that she was upset, but this was for her and Bobby to work out. He'd said enough. It wasn't his place to tell her that her partner was in love with her, too. A few months ago, she'd brought him over for a barbecue. At first, he'd seemed nervous, but the family quickly put him at ease. After all, he was Alex's partner. That made him family, too. John had watched him and Alex while he flipped burgers on the grill. His initial impression of them was that they enjoyed a close friendship. He continued to watch them, and as they relaxed after a few beers, he noticed something no one else seemed to. Bobby was warm and affectionate with Alex, which fit the role of best friend, but when she stepped away and he got to watch her from a distance, something about him changed. It was subtle, almost non-existent, but John had enough experience in observing people to see it. He didn't know Bobby as well as Alex did, of course, but he'd spent enough time around him to see the change. It was something he was careful to hide from her, and it vanished when she turned her attention back to him, but John knew what it meant. Bobby was in love with his daughter. He wondered if he even realized it; his reactions seemed subconscious. He sighed. They'd work it out, one way or another.

Alex came back into the house. He hugged her and kissed her forehead. "It'll all be okay, sweetheart. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Dad. Thanks."

She sat down on the couch and let out a heavy sigh. Be a detective, huh? All right. She was up to the challenge. After all, she had nothing better to do during her work hours right now. Figuring out her partner could be a full time job.

When her phone rang, she pulled it from her pocket and looked at the number. She smiled. He never forgot her... She flipped the phone open and softly said, "Hey, you."


	7. Finding the Source of His Unrest

When he returned to the beach outside the motel, he was having a hard time catching his breath. He'd pushed himself hard. So he walked around the beach as his heart rate and breathing slowly returned to normal. He continued walking to cool down, heading down to the waterline, letting the waves splash about his legs and recede. Looking down, he saw a shell bouncing around in the surf at his feet. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. It was perfect. It was rare to find a perfect shell in the surf. The action of water and sand on the delicate shells quickly wore holes in the sides and often chipped the edges. There was little wear on this one. Stirred up by the storm, it had not been in the surf for long. Cradling it in his hand, he carried it back to his room, setting it with care on the table by his badge, wallet and phone. He took a shower, letting the hot water wash away the sweat and sand, and he tried to relax. It wasn't easy. After getting ready for bed, he picked up his phone and looked at the time. Almost midnight. He didn't realize it was so late.

He slid into bed, turning the phone over in his hands. She hadn't called, but he wasn't surprised. He was the one who promised to stay in touch. Now how she interpreted that...well, that was what mattered. Did she expect a daily call? If she did, and he didn't follow through, she'd be pissed. But if he called this late...hell, she wouldn't be mad at him for waking her. He pressed the speed dial and waited.

"Hey, you," she answered. She didn't sound as though he'd woken her.

"Hi. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Not tonight, but it is kind of late."

"Sorry. I went for a run."

"How are you feeling? Making any progress?"

He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin. "Uh, no, not really."

"I wish you would tell me what's wrong."

_Tell her_...He pushed the thought away. "I...I can't, Eames."

"You have no idea how much that troubles me, Bobby. I can't imagine what has come between us, why you can't talk to me anymore."

"No, it's not that. It's nothing that's come between us." Or was it? "I..."

He found himself choking up, unable to get past the lump in his throat to talk to her. If she had been there, she would have seen it. But he stopped talking before she heard it. "If it's nothing between us, then what is it? I have been wracking my brain here, and I can't think of anything I've done..."

"It's not you," he managed.

She was silent, trying to read his tone, but she couldn't. All she knew was that he sounded upset. If she pushed now, he would probably shut down on her and that would be the end of their talk tonight. So she did what she usually did; she changed the subject. "I haven't had much to do, you know. I finished the paperwork, so Deakins has me helping Stevens and DeMarco with theirs."

"I...I'm sorry."

This wasn't working. She wanted more than anything to see him, so she could help him through whatever he was struggling with. She was having a hard time with this, too, and he didn't understand that. This time he was so wrapped up in his own misery that he couldn't see hers. "What can I do to help you?" she whispered, keeping her voice low so he wouldn't hear how upset she was. It didn't work.

"You're upset."

He was so good at stating the flipping obvious. "Of course I'm upset. I swear, Bobby...I am so ready to just smack the shit out of you." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I handle anger better than other emotions."

"I know. You can be angry with me."

"Oh, I am, don't worry about that."

He laughed softly, and she felt her irritation fade. She always loved to hear him laugh. "I miss you," he said suddenly.

That caught her off guard. Before she could stop herself, she snapped, "You're the one who left."

He was quiet. That hurt, but he knew she was right. He was the one who left, who was staying away. All he had to do was tell her where he was and she'd jump in the car and be there in a few hours. And he was so tempted... "I, uh, I'd better go."

She'd pushed too hard in the wrong direction. He was shutting down now. She could kick herself for snapping at him. If she hadn't she might have been able to talk him into letting her help him. She could have convinced him to give in. "Bobby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's ok, Eames. I deserved it. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good night."

He closed the phone and set it on the table. She was upset. She was blaming herself and that wasn't fair. This was not in any way her fault. But he had no idea how to reassure her. She wanted to be with him, and God knew he wanted her there, but he wasn't ready for her. Not yet. He questioned the wisdom of calling her every night; she was going to wear him down and he was going to give in. He knew it. So why did he call? Because she'd asked him to. Because he needed to hear her voice. He almost picked the phone back up, to call her back and just give in to her now. It was a struggle not to do it. He was successful, but it just made him feel worse. He was avoiding the inevitable, and he didn't know why. He sure wasn't getting anywhere on his own. Maybe he did need her to work this out. He drifted off before he came to any resolution, and his night was plagued with dreams that unsettled him. It was a very bad night.

-------------------------------------------------

Eames entered her apartment after work the next evening, pulling out the printout she'd had tucked in her jacket pocket all day. She'd found him. It hadn't taken any great effort. All she had to do was pull his credit card activity. Now what was she going to do with it? She honestly had no idea what he would do if she showed up. He would probably be furious, and she _had_ promised him she wouldn't come after him. Well, before she made any decision about that, she had to find out what had sent him over the edge. And since he wouldn't talk to her, the only thing left to her was to call Annie.

Finding her number again, she dialed. "Hello?"

"Hi, Annie. This is Alex Eames again."

"Hi. I haven't seen Bobby, if that's why you're calling. I have no plans to see him again."

"I know. That's not why I'm calling. Annie, when you broke up with him, you told him something that disturbed him deeply. I need to know what that was."

Annie knew exactly what she'd said that would have done it. "Our relationship was too crowded for me, Alex. There was always someone else on his mind, and I got tired of sharing him. I told him that he is too complicated for me. And then I told him to call me if he ever got over you."

Eames was silent, as shocked by Annie's words as Bobby had been the first time she'd said them. "If he ever got over...me?"

"Now please, Alex. I am moving on with my life. I'm done with him. He's all yours now. Take care of him."

The line went dead. She sat there holding the phone until it began to squawk because she hadn't hung it up yet. Broken from her reverie, she placed it in its receiver. All the pieces were falling into place now, and everything made perfect sense. No wonder he ran and wouldn't tell her why. Bobby liked to think he had things figured out, and when he got hit in the face with an unexpected revelation, he took it hard. Since she was the source of his unrest, he naturally wouldn't want to talk to her about it. Ok. Now she had the information she needed. What did she do with it?


	8. The Last Straw

It had been a very long day. After tossing and turning all night, he'd gotten up and gone running. He spent the day on the beach, walking and thinking, not particularly caring where he went or where he ended up. By the time sunset rolled around, he was several miles down the beach from the motel. He headed back, using the time and distance to run some more. It was well after dark when he got back, and he showered and headed down the street to the diner for a quick bite to eat.

Stopping at a liquor store on the way back to his room, he stepped out onto the balcony when he got there, setting the paper bag on the table. He pulled out a six-pack of imported German beer and a bottle of scotch. He preferred scotch. His father's drink of choice had been gin, and that was what his brother chose when he had started drinking. He wasn't a heavy drinker, but when he did drink hard liquor, he never drank gin. Scotch, bourbon, Jack Daniels...but never gin. He set the bag on the floor by the chair and sat down, opening a beer. He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. Then he leaned back in the chair and looked out across the dark ocean toward Europe. He knew this wasn't going to help his problem, but dammit, at least he would sleep tonight.

------------------------------------------

He looked at the phone in his hand, turning it over and wondering how it came to be in his hand. He hadn't called Eames yet...so he opened the phone and pressed '2'.

"Hello?" she mumbled into the phone.

"Eames," he said quietly.

"What the hell time is it?" She looked at the clock beside her bed. "Goren, it's two in the morning."

"Is it? Oh, sorry. I didn't look at the time."

His voice was...odd. "Have you been drinking?"

"Just a little."

"How much is a little?"

"Just over half."

"Half of what, Bobby?"

"I'm fine. I...I just wanted to say good night."

"You woke me up to say good night?"

"How could I say it to you if you were still asleep?"

She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Are you making sense to yourself?"

"Of course I am."

"Go to bed, Bobby."

"But I'm not done. I still have...uh, two beers and, uh, oh, well, there's not much scotch left. Shit, where'd it go?"

She could tell him. "You're done. Go to bed."

He opened another beer and took a drink. "No, I'm not. I...I'm going to sleep tonight."

"You didn't sleep last night?"

"Not well."

She wasn't surprised. He never slept well when he was upset. And he never drank like this when he wasn't. She was torn. When they went out drinking for kicks, Bobby was a lot of fun. But when he was upset and he drank, his dark moods got even darker. She decided to play dirty, taking the risk that he wouldn't be too mad at her if he found out. "Bobby," she said, her voice soft and sweet. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why are you in Connecticut?"

"Because my head's all screwed up and I need to figure it out."

"And what screwed up your head?"

"You did."

She was quiet for a minute. "What did I do, Bobby?"

"You didn't _do_ a damn thing. You never had to."

"So what's your problem?"

"My problem is that I'm drunk as hell and should not be having this conversation with you. Hold on."

He set the phone down and picked up the scotch bottle. Holding the half-empty beer bottle in front of him, he upturned the scotch, spilling some into the beer but most of it over his hand and onto the floor. He dropped the empty bottle into the paper bag, where it hit the empty beer bottles and shattered. Then he picked up the phone. "Ok. Where were we?"

"I'm sixty seconds from hunting you down and beating the crap out of you, dammit. What did you break?"

"It was just an empty bottle. Calm down."

"Calm down...!" She choked off the rest of her reply. "Why did you call me?"

"Because I promised."

"Go to bed," she said slowly.

"As soon as I finish..."

"No. Don't drink any more. Just go to bed."

He looked into the bottle in his hand. "Not gonna waste it."

"Ok, fine. Finish that beer and go...to...bed." This was really getting old.

"Still got one."

"Save it."

She hated when he got argumentative. He wasn't angry; his goal seemed to be making her angry, although she doubted it was intentional. He would never intentionally piss her off. She took a deep breath. Time to try a different tactic. "Bobby?"

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Just watching everything spin."

She laughed. She couldn't help it. "It would make me feel a lot better if you took the phone and got into bed, just so I know you made it safely."

"It's just across the room."

She knew if she could just get him on the bed, that would do him in. "Please. Humor me."

"Sure. Ok." He got up from the chair and tumbled forward into the balcony railing. Looking toward the room, he made his way through the doorway and stumbled to the bed. Dropping onto it, he said into the phone, "Ok, I'm here."

"Laying on the bed?"

"Yep."

"How do you feel?"

"I'm tired...but I feel good."

"I'm sure you do. You won't in the morning. Is everything still spinning?"

"Yep."

"Go to sleep, Bobby. You can sleep now."

"Yep."

She could tell he was fading. "Good night," she said softly, with affection.

"I...uh, I love you, Eames."

She smiled and sighed. He had to get wasted to confess his heart. "I know. I love you, too, you horse's ass."

He didn't say anything more. She knew he was sleeping. Taking a deep breath, she closed the phone and sat there, debating what to do. This was insane. He wasn't getting anywhere and it was wearing him down fast. This was the last straw; she was not going to let him suffer any longer. She opened her phone and dialed another number.

"Deakins."

"I am so sorry to wake you, Captain."

"What's wrong, Alex?"

"I need the rest of the week off."

"Goren?"

"Yes."

"Did you find him?"

"Yes."

"Is he ok?"

"No."

"Alex..."

"Physically, he's ok, mostly. But I need to talk to him and I can't do it on the phone."

"Is this something I want to know about?"

"Um, probably not."

He was quiet for a minute. He heard the scuttlebutt about the squad. He knew what everyone thought. Softly, he asked, "Be honest with me, Alex. Is anything going on that is going to affect your ability to work together?"

"No. We're going to get all this hashed out."

"Do I dare ask what you're hashing out?"

"To be honest with you, I don't know."

"But you and Goren are going to be ok?"

"Yes, Captain. Neither of us would ever do anything that would affect our partnership."

"Ok. I'll see you both back on Monday."

"Thank you, Captain. Sorry I woke you."

"Not a problem. Go take care of your partner."

Oh, she was going to take care of him, ok. She got out of bed and got dressed, threw clothes into a small suitcase and, locking up the apartment, went down to the car. She started the engine and headed to Mystic, Connecticut.


	9. Biding Time

Eames sat in her car and stared at the motel. It was five o'clock in the morning. What the hell had she been thinking? Sighing, she went to the office and read the sign. _For nighttime service, dial 88_. She picked up the phone and dialed '88'. A sleepy voice answered, "May I help you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I need a room."

"Not a bother. I'll be right down."

Within a few minutes, a door to the side of the lobby opened and an attractive woman in a bathrobe came to the desk. Her hair was gathered on top of her head in a bun and her face was careworn, making her look older than she probably was. She smiled kindly. "Hello. I'm Martha Rasden. We have so few guests this time of year. During the summer I hire a night clerk, but it's just not worth it now. You said you need a room?"

"Yes, but first I need to know if someone checked in here earlier in the week."

"I've only had one guest check in this week."

"From New York?"

"Yes. A police officer."

She pulled out her badge and showed it to her. "Can you tell me what room he's in?"

Martha looked worried. "What has he done?"

_Other than being a stupid ass?_ "He hasn't done anything. He's my partner and I'm meeting him here. He just doesn't know it yet, and I would really appreciate it if you didn't say anything to him when you see him."

She smiled and relaxed. "He's kind of private. We don't see him much, to the dismay of my children."

Eames returned her smile. "Yeah, he has that effect on people. Kids love him. He's good with them."

Martha leaned toward her. "My daughter is diving into her history project because of him."

That was Bobby. She smiled fondly. "I'm sure he'd be glad to know that. He loves history, and he thinks everyone else should, too."

The innkeeper laughed. "I can put you in an adjoining room, if you'd like."

"That would be perfect."

She handed her a card to fill out and said, "Just fill that out. The rate is $50, including tax. How long will you be staying?"

"Just till Sunday."

"That will be $150."

She handed her a credit card and filled out the registration card. Martha came back with the card and the credit slip, both of which she handed to Eames as she gave her the filled-out card. She signed the slip and put her credit card back in her pocket. Martha handed her a key. "Your room is 206. Mr. Goren is in 204."

"Thank you."

She left the lobby, parked her car and went up to her room. She was pleased. It was a really nice room, clean and well-kept. She went out onto the balcony and looked toward the sea, where the pre-dawn glow illuminated the sky. "I'm watching the sunrise. I swear I'm going to kick your ass, Goren."

She looked over at the adjoining balcony, about five feet away. An open pack of cigarettes and a tall bottle of very dark beer sat on the table. She leaned forward over the railing to look toward the door. The curtains billowed out the open door. She looked down at the ground below and sighed, deciding against balcony hopping. "I am so not an acrobat."

She sat down and rubbed her face. She was exhausted. He wasn't going to be waking any time soon, so she decided it wouldn't hurt for her to get a few hours of sleep. She doubted he'd be up much before the sun set anyway. What worried her was how he was going to react when he saw her. She knew him better than anyone did, but she could not even guess what his reaction would be. Her money was on one of two scenarios. He would be furious or he would be relieved, and she prepared herself for one of those reactions. But she knew fully well that with Bobby, making predictions was dangerous because if he was anything, it was unpredictable. She sighed. She was nervous about this, but she knew it had to be done. He couldn't go on like this, and neither could she. The eastern sky was a brilliant explosion of reds, oranges, pinks and purples. She'd forgotten how beautiful the sunrise over the sea was. Taking a deep breath of the cold, moist air, she went into her room, pulling the curtains shut so she could get some sleep.

-------------------------------------------------------

A few hours later, she woke on her own. She glanced at the clock. 11:48. No wonder she was hungry. Stretching, she went to the balcony and looked over at his door. It was still open and nothing was disturbed. He would probably drink that beer when he got up to try to kill the hangover, and as drunk as he had been...well, he wasn't up yet.

She went down into the office, where Martha was working on her books. "Dreary work, isn't it?"

"A necessary evil," Martha smiled.

"My dad hates just doing his taxes. I couldn't imagine him running a place like this."

"This inn has been in my family since the mid-1800s. I'll pass it on to my children."

"How many kids do you have?"

"Just two. Carrie is sixteen and Freddie is nine. Your partner made a big impression on both of them. I know they would love to meet you."

"Really? Why?"

"He spoke highly of you. Freddie is at an age where anything 'police' is the greatest thing in the world. He was a little disappointed to find out it's not all about shooting people."

Eames laughed. "No, we try not to shoot anyone. Bobby is especially good at talking people down. He rarely has to resort to his weapon."

"Did you talk to him?"

"Not yet. He's still sleeping. I talked to him early this morning and he was having a rough time."

"Is something wrong with him?"

_Nothing a good smack in the head won't cure._ "He's just been under a lot of stress lately. He'll be fine. I was wondering if there's a place to grab a bite to eat nearby."

"There's a diner down the street. The food there is pretty good."

"Thank you. Good luck with your books."

Martha smiled again. "I was glad for the distraction."

Eames left the inn and headed down the street in the direction Martha had indicated. After eating, she walked around. She was impressed by the place...all the charm of a New England coastal town, tall ships...no wonder he liked it here.

By the time she got back to the inn, it was dark. Walking around town had been so pleasant, she'd lost track of the time.Quietly, she slid the balcony door open. The smell of cigarette smoke drifted past her nose. He was awake. She had been thinking about how to approach him all day, and she had no idea what approach would be best. She heard him take a deep breath and cough, then the balcony door slid closed. A few minutes later, she heard his door close. She stepped out on the balcony and was surprised, a few minutes later, to see him walk across the beach toward the sea. Well, that option had never occurred to her. Confront him on the beach. She liked that one. She headed out the door and down toward the beach.

----------------------------------------------------------

He groaned and rolled over in the bed. His head was pounding and he felt like shit. Slowly, he got up, still a little unsteady. Damn. He looked toward the balcony and frowned. Who left the damn door open? Closing the door, he rubbed the back of his neck and winced. Well, he had slept. He felt like a train wreck, but he'd slept. Since there was no dawn glow in the sky, he could only assume he'd slept through the day and that it was now twilight out there. After a hot shower, he was steady again, and he felt a little better. Stepping out onto the balcony, he sat down, opened the beer that was on the table and lit a cigarette. He was almost done with the beer when he thought he heard a sliding door. He wasn't sure which rooms the other guests were staying in, so he just assumed it was one of them stepping out onto their balcony. He put out the cigarette, drained the beer and decided to go for a walk on the beach. He'd been right about one thing yesterday. A night of heavy drinking did nothing to solve the dilemma that had sent him here. Four days now and he was no closer to a resolution than he'd been when he arrived. What the hell was he going to do?


	10. Confrontation on the Beach

He walked down to the waterline and headed north. The crash of the breakers on the beach was comforting. The tide was heading out. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and again gave his mind free rein. As he expected, it drifted to her. He really couldn't go on like this. What the hell had Annie been thinking? He had been perfectly content to ignore his feelings, keeping them suppressed and under control. But how well under control were they? If she could see that his heart lay elsewhere, then he must have just been fooling himself. Now he wondered just how good at hiding things he had been. His father's voice popped into his mind again. _You're going to destroy everything you worked to build because of a damn woman. What the hell is wrong with you?_ But she wasn't just any woman. Not to him.

"Bobby?"

He froze. What the hell...? He was hearing things now. Damn...he really was losing his mind...

She watched him stop, and she knew what was going through his head when he didn't turn around. So she called his name again. This time he did turn.

He stood there staring at her. A whole range of emotions crossed his face in succession, but he had no idea how he felt, how he should feel. He was angry, but relieved...pleased, but disappointed. "I should have known you couldn't stay away."

"I was doing fine until you called me at two this morning."

"I didn't call you."

"Yes. You did."

He closed his eyes and let out his breath. What the hell was he doing, calling her at two in the morning, as drunk as he was..._oh, shit_..."What did I say?"

"Not a lot of anything that made any sense."

"And you're here because...?"

"Because you need me."

"I told you that?"

"You didn't have to."

He turned and started walking away from her. But she wasn't going to let him run away again. She trotted to his side and fell in step beside him. Used to matching his pace, she had no trouble keeping up with him. Long ago, she'd made a promise to herself that he would never have to slow down for her, not with his stride or in his mind. She remained silent and just walked at his side. She was intruding into his space; he would be the one to set the tone for their conversation.

He looked at her as she came to his side. She said nothing; she just walked with him. He didn't know what to say because he wasn't sure how he felt about her being here. She was right. He did need her. And he sure wasn't solving anything on his own. All he'd succeeded in doing was arguing with himself and getting drunk. Yeah, he'd gotten far. But how the hell was she going to be of any help? He couldn't tell her what was bothering him. "Um, did I tell you why I called you at two in the morning?"

"You wanted to say good night."

"Really? Well, I did tell you I'd call..." He was very unsure of himself right now. "Uh, what else did I say?"

"You told me that I was the one who was messing up your head."

He stopped. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

He squinted his eyes shut and rubbed his temple. "What else?"

She kept her voice matter-of-fact. "Nothing much. You said you were going to continue drinking because you still had beer left. Everything was spinning and you were feeling good. That's about it."

"Great."

"Oh, and you told me you loved me."

He stopped rubbing his head and looked at her, but she had turned away from him. She continued walking down the beach, leaving him standing there, looking after her with a look of incredulity on his face. No... He ran after her, leaning toward her as he walked backwards beside her, trying to see her face. "Please tell me I didn't."

"Why? Don't you?"

"Well, yes, uh, I mean, I...I shouldn't have said that."

"Why not? What possible harm can there be in telling someone that you love them? That's a _good_ thing, Bobby. There's nothing wrong with love."

He grabbed her arm as he stopped and turned her to face him directly. "How can you say that? Eames, _love_ can destroy...everything."

"Goren, you're an idiot." She pulled her arm from his and continued walking. She had no doubt he would follow. He was committed to the discussion now, and he was going to be sure she heard him out. And if he thought she was annoyed with him, which she was, so much the better.

Sure enough, he appeared at her side again. "Why? Why am I an idiot?"

He was getting irritated, but she was already there. "Why?" she asked. Stopping, she turned to face him and gave him a hard shove. He stumbled backwards toward the surf and she advanced on him. "Did you ask me _why_? Look around you. We shouldn't be _here_! We should be home, sitting in a warm living room and talking about this. But no! You have to freak out and take off, worrying the shit out of me and refusing to tell me what's wrong. That's _bullshit_, Bobby." She poked her finger into his chest with each word, driving home her point and getting angrier with each word. "That's not how you treat your best friend!"

She was furious now. Slamming her hands into his chest, she put all her weight and all her anger into shoving him as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards into the surf, lost his balance and fell into the water. She just stood there, shocked. As he scrambled to his feet, though, she overcame her shock and, covering her mouth with both hands, she started laughing. He glared at her, but his face softened when she began to laugh. Still, he was not going to be the only one who was wet. She backed away as he started for her. "Oh, no you don't..." she started. But he kept coming, so she turned and ran. He caught her in a few strides, grabbing her around the waist. "Bobby, don't! Come on, it's October, not July!"

But he wasn't listening. He dragged her into the water as she struggled against his hold. "I'm going to kill you, Goren."

He carried her into the churning surf and let her go. She disappeared under a breaking wave, surfacing a few yards away. Furious, she waded toward him through the water. "You stupid moose!"

He caught her as she ran into him, intent on doing something to let him know just how angry she was, although her brain did not plan out what her five-foot-three self could do to his six-foot-four bulk. She slammed two fists into his chest, but he grabbed her and pulled her into him, trapping her arms against his torso. So she kicked him. He grunted, but did not loosen his grip. "You are so dead," she growled, struggling against him as the waves crashed around them.

She looked up into his face, fulling intending to read him the riot act, but every angry thought and word slipped from her mind when she suddenly found his lips pressed against hers. She caught her breath and her brain short-circuited; she stopped struggling. She could feel his body trembling against hers, and something told her it wasn't from the cold. When he pulled his head back, breaking the kiss, she looked at him, cold, wet and confused. "What is going on with you?" she asked. That was the last thing she would have expected him to do.

He shook his head. "I have no idea."

Then he kissed her again, releasing her arms, which she slid around his neck. Slowly she pulled back from his embrace, and he let her go. She stared at him. He looked...defeated. Dripping wet, standing in the crashing surf and shivering, they continued looking at each other. "Can we go back to the motel?" she asked. "I am freezing my ass off here and we need to talk."

He just nodded mutely. They left the surf and headed back toward the motel, walking in silence. She reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled away. So she left him alone.

They returned to his room. He handed her a t-shirt and gave her a gentle push toward the bathroom. "Go take a hot shower," he said softly.

She looked at him suspiciously. "You're going to be here when I come out, aren't you?"

"I won't go anywhere," he replied.

She didn't like the look on his face. "Bobby..."

"Go on."

He turned and went out onto the balcony. She took a quick shower and came out of the bathroom wearing only his shirt. She slid the balcony door open. "Bobby?"

He turned to look at her, and she couldn't interpret the look on his face. But he didn't say anything. He was shivering from the cold, so she grabbed his arm and gently pulled him into the room. "You're going to get pneumonia. Go shower and warm up."

He let his eyes linger on her face. "Um, I wouldn't complain if you weren't here when I came out."

"Don't be an ass. I'll be here."

He shrugged, grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom. She sat down on the bed. She knew him well enough to know why he was acting the way he was. He came here to sort through his feelings, to try to find a way to deal with his attraction to her, his love for her. He was failing miserably at that, and he was giving up. It was up to her to help him find a way to cope, to reassure him and let him know that everything was ok. Frustrated, she stacked the pillows against the headboard and, pulling the blanket over her, she sat against them, waiting.


	11. You're Not Alone

He came out of the bathroom about fifteen minutes later, wearing a t-shirt and sweats. He leaned against the wall and looked at her. She looked back at him. He asked, "When did you get here?"

"About five this morning."

"Where are you staying?"

"Nearby. I'm not leaving you until we get this worked out. I have to know you're ok."

"I'm fine, Eames. You can go if you want to. At least get some clothes on."

"I'm good for the moment. What are the chances of you still being here if I leave the room?"

"I was here when you came out of the shower."

"Answer the question."

"I'd rather not."

She glared at him, but he didn't say anything more. He was not making this easy, not that she expected him to. As much as this had obviously disturbed him, he was not going to talk about it readily with anyone. Softly, she said, "Why did you run away?"

He averted his eyes from hers. "I...I was overwhelmed. I had to...get away..."

"From?"

He raised his eyes without lifting his head. "You, Eames."

"Come over here and sit down."

He hesitated, but then he walked around the bed and sat down in the chair beside the table. She let out an annoyed sigh, but she didn't say anything. That would have to do for now. She settled herself deeper into the pillows, pulling the blanket closer around her and hugging her legs. She rested her chin on her knees and focused her eyes on him. Arms resting on his knees, he sat forward on the chair, eyes focused on the floor. "What am I going to do with you?" she said, her voice gentle.

His head dropped a little lower, shoulders slumped a little more. He sighed softly, but he didn't answer her. "Would you look at me, Bobby? I don't want to talk to the top of your head." He shook his head. "Either you look at me, or I lay down on the floor and look up at you."

He lifted his head and looked at her. "Why would you do that?"

"So I can see your face."

"And that's important?"

"You know it is. I am damn tired of you hiding from me and I'm not going to let you get away with it any more. Bobby, we are partners, and when something bothers one of us, it affects both of us. But more than partners, we are friends. It hurts me to see you like this and I want to help you. We _can_ work this out, you know."

"How do you know that? Huh? How can you know we can work this out when you don't even know what's wrong?"

"How do you know I don't know what's wrong?"

That made him stop. Could she...? "I...I never told you..."

"Words are not the only way you communicate. You know that, genius. And you are not the only person I talk to."

"Uh, you...did you talk to Annie again?"

"Yes, I did. I wanted to know what set you off, and you yourself told me it was something she said."

"Um...what did she tell you?"

Eames sighed heavily and threw off the blanket. She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned toward him. "She told me exactly what she said to send you off into such an emotional spiral. And she knew it would, Bobby. She was hurt because you couldn't do anything more than be with her. She never had your heart, and that made her angry. So she hurt you back, with words."

"What did she tell you, Eames?" This time he wanted to know, so he would know if she was indeed aware of exactly what his problem was.

"She said your relationship was too crowded and you were too complicated for her. That she was tired of sharing you."

"Well, yeah, she said all that..."

She looked directly into his face, catching and holding his gaze. "She told you to call her if you ever got over me."

She saw the color drain from his face as he averted his eyes and she knew that was it. "I, um, I thought I _had_ gotten over you," he muttered, almost under his breath.

She studied him, taking in his posture, his unwillingness to hold her gaze. "Why are you giving up?"

He got up and moved away from her. "I'm not..."

"Do not lie to me. I can see it, Bobby. I see it in your eyes and the way you're carrying yourself. You taught me how to read body language. Talk to me."

He wasn't going to argue with her any more. He'd tell her what she wanted to know, whether she was ready to hear it or not. "I...I'm tired, Eames. I'm tired of fighting and I'm tired of hurting. I...I don't know what...what to do, how to fix it or even just make it...better. I was always...alone inside. I never invested myself in anyone...because I know what happens when you do that. And I wasn't going to set myself up for that kind of pain ever again." He leaned a hand against the wall by the balcony and looked at the door, even though he could only see the room reflected back in the glass. "I was ok with being alone. I didn't mind being alone. And it didn't hurt after awhile. So it was good...for me. Call me a coward if you will, but it hurt less to be alone than it did to open myself to anyone. I could play the game, and I always played it very well. I guess I'm more like my dad than I thought I was. Sex isn't love, and I never thought it would be. It's all just a fucking game." And it was a game he would never win, no matter how well he played.

"But something happened." She'd never seen him as a player, and it disturbed her to hear him compare himself to his father. He may never have let anyone into his heart, but his warmth and concern for the feelings of others was not an act. He was overstating his tendency toward remoteness, but that was something she would deal with later. There were other issues to be handled first.

He could hear the tightness in her voice, and he knew she was near tears. He didn't want that...but he didn't know how to explain this to her in a way that sounded good. It wasn't good, and he couldn't put a positive spin on it. "Yes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You happened." He rested his head against the cool glass. "God help me, Eames. You came along, and you didn't run screaming in the other direction after our first homicide. After the first year, I began to think maybe you were going to stay after all. Maybe you were the one cop in the department who would put up with me...who _could_ put up with me. And you know what? You are."

"But that's not what happened."

"No. It's not." He wasn't sure he could continue. He just wanted to...he didn't even know what he wanted to do, but having this conversation was not it. "I, uh, I think I need some air."

"Go out on the balcony. You are not running away from me again."

Away from her...he was never away from her. She was with him all the time because he carried her in his heart. "I fell in love, Eames," he said in a rush. "That's what happened. I fell in love with my partner." He said it as if he couldn't believe it had happened. His anger at himself allowed the words to continue tumbling from his mouth, before he could stop them. "But I've been pushing those feelings away and pretending that they don't exist. I won't lose you. I need you as my partner a hell of a lot more than I need you in my goddam bed. I will never put our partnership at risk, because there is no other partner out there for me. I can always find someone for my bed...if I want to...but I doubt I'll ever find another partner. Not one like you." He rubbed the back of his neck, still refusing to look at her. "I-I'm sorry for kissing you. I shouldn't have done that. Forgive me." He swallowed hard. "I...I think I'll take that air now."

He slid the door open and stepped into the cold night air, closing the door behind him. He leaned his arms on the railing and hung his head. There it was, all out in the open. If she had a mind to kick him while he was down, she'd never get another opportunity like this one. There was no person on the planet with the ability to totally destroy him except the petite woman he had just left in his motel room. His parents had tried, wittingly or not, to destroy him all his life, and he had come out on top. But if Eames wanted to do it, he would never survive. And now the ball was in her court...and so was he.

She watched him step through the door and lean against the railing. Everything about his posture told her he was done. He wasn't giving up any more; he had already quit. He had just placed everything in her hands. What she said and what she did now was probably more important than anything that had ever happened in his life. In a way she resented him for putting her in this position, but she also understood the supreme trust he was placing in her. He knew she could destroy him and he trusted her to care enough about him not to do it. He had to know, on some level, that she did love him.

She crossed the room and opened the door, stepping out onto the balcony with him. "I do forgive you, Bobby," she said quietly. "I forgive you for saying you're sorry. Now I never, ever want you to apologize again for kissing me or for loving me. Ok? That's not something you should apologize for, at least not to me. Got it?"

He nodded mutely. She stepped up to the railing beside him and leaned against it. "I can't tell you how many times I have jumped back and forth from wanting to smack the shit out of you to wanting to just grab onto you and hold you and never let you go. And that was just this week." She sighed. "I swear to you I don't want anything to happen to our partnership either." She paused, quietly looking at his face and trying unsuccessfully to read his expression. "Look, if neither of us wants to put the partnership in jeopardy, why would we? I don't want a different partner. I love being your partner and I'm used to you; we work well together. We like each other and we're in sync with each other. That doesn't happen often. So you can relax. Nothing you have said or done has threatened us."

He seemed reassured. His shoulders relaxed and he let out a heavy sigh. She let herself smile, then she said, "So what do we do about our problem?"

A look of utter confusion settled onto his face. "We have another problem?"

"_Another_ problem? Are you looking for more trouble? Being partners was never our problem. That's the one thing we have done right and done well. We have a bigger problem."

"We do?"

"Ok, I'm back to wanting to smack you. You're being an idiot again. Why do you think all of this is one-sided? All week long, you have been so self-absorbed you haven't given me a second thought."

"A second thought? Eames, you are all I have thought about all damn week."

"I don't doubt that, but you've been obsessing about how _you_ feel. It's not all about you, Bobby. What about me? Does how I feel even count?"

"Of course it does. I..." He trailed off and she watched his mind catch up with hers. "How _do_ you feel?"

"Gee, thanks for asking." She turned away from him and went back into the room. She was freezing and if he really wanted to know how she felt, he could follow her into the room and she would give him his answer in the warmth and comfort of the indoors.

She knew he wouldn't leave it hanging. "Eames?"

She finally looked at him from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Why is it so hard for you to imagine that I might love you back?"

He looked as though she had just punched him. His mind went blank and he had no idea what to say. She was right. He hadn't thought about that, and he had no explanation for why. "I...I never thought..."

He trailed off and she shook her head at him. "That's right, idiot. You didn't think. Geez, Bobby, I've seen a leaf blowing in the wind make you think. But now, when it really matters, your brain goes on vacation." She patted the mattress beside her. "Come over here."

She waited patiently for him to decide to cross the room and sit beside her. He was tense and he wouldn't face her, but she let that go for now. He'd relax soon enough. "You drive me nuts, Goren. But you make it worth the frustration." She continued to watch him. He was slumped over, with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his temples. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what she had to say. When she remained silent, he turned his head to look at her. She reached out and touched his cheek with her fingertips. "You are sweet and kind and usually considerate, and dammit, I love you, too. I fell in love with you a long time ago, and I can no longer imagine loving anyone else. Bobby, without you in my life, I'd die of boredom...and a broken heart." Her fingers strayed across his chest. "You think about that, ok? Put everything into perspective and hash it all out. Get your head on straight." Now he needed time alone, to digest what she'd just told him. "As soon as you realize that we can do this and that it will only make our partnership stronger, then you come and talk to me. I'm in room 206."

She got up and grabbed her pile of clothes from the bathroom. Stopping at the door, she looked back at him. He looked exactly like he didn't know what to think or how to feel. Quietly, she said, "You're not alone in this, and you never have been. It's time you realized that. I'll be waiting." She left the room.


	12. Expectations

He just sat on the bed, numb. _She loves me_. That was the only thought his mind would register. As he recovered thought function, his mind raced through a thousand questions. Not questions about her, but questions about himself. Why had it never occurred to him that she might love him in return? Once he'd realized how he felt about her, he fought so hard to keep those feelings hidden, to deny they even existed, that he never gave a thought to how she felt about him. That she loved him, he was certain. That she was in love with him, he had never imagined. And why? He dropped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. He had no answer for that. Could he imagine her in bed with him? Hell, yes. He did damn near every night when he closed his eyes and dreamed. At first, he had fought against the dreams, losing more sleep than he could afford. But once he convinced himself that they were harmless, he had come to enjoy them. What was hard for him was waking up, knowing it had all been just a dream. Accepting that those dreams would never become reality was painful, but he was used to pain. And so he just went on, facing his dreams with frustration, being close to her during the day and drawing her closer at night, wishing they were more than just dreams. It never occurred to him that she might be going through the same thing. As insightful as he could be, as much as he studied human behavior and psychology, he had been unable to read the feelings of the one person in the world he was closest to...because...because he _was_ so close to her. He had never looked at her objectively. He had never looked at her with the part of his mind he reserved for perps and suspects. Why would he? But...she loved him.

He sighed. Now what? What did she expect of him? He assumed she wanted to step into a more intimate relationship, but that was an assumption, and if he was wrong it could be very painful for him, in more ways than one. But she hadn't smacked the crap out of him when he'd kissed her earlier. No, she'd kissed him back. And he wasn't allowed to apologize again for kissing her...or for loving her. _You're not in this alone, and you never have been_. Not alone any more...he wondered what that would be like. There was not going to be any second chance for him because there was no one else for him. It was time he admitted that. Well...he sat up. There was only one way to find out what she expected. He had to ask her.

------------------------------------------------

She changed into sweats, then pulled his t-shirt back on over her sweatshirt. She loved wearing his clothes, not because they were big and comfortable, which they were, but because they were his. His scent clung to this shirt, and it made her feel closer to him. It was as close as she ever got, but she was hoping that would change. Their talk would get one of two reactions from him. Either he would knock on the door and he would be hers for good, or he would freak out again and she'd lose him forever. If he knocked on the door, she was sure he would be tentative, uncertain of what she expected from him. That was just Bobby. But she knew just how to make it crystal clear, even to him, exactly what she wanted. If he freaked out, she didn't know what would happen to him...to them. Her intuition, which was usually very close to the mark, told her that sooner or later, there would be a knock on the door. He had to have known for a long time now that he was in love with her, but having it thrown in his face, along with the realization that his feelings were not as hidden as he had thought, had caused his emotional stability, which could be rocky at best, to tumble out of control. With one sentence, Annie had knock his entire world off kilter. It was her job to right it back up because he obviously couldn't do it himself.

She turned off the lights and walked to the balcony door, looking out through the glass at the ocean. Moonlight reflected off the waves and she felt calmer just watching the crashing surf. No wonder he liked to come to the ocean. She could barely make out the swells beyond the breakers, and beyond that there was nothing but blackness. She shivered, but it wasn't because she was cold. No, she was finally warm again and she swore that she was going to tie him to furniture if he didn't quit going outside. She did have her handcuffs with her..._stop it!_ she chastised herself. But she smiled. He liked to play and so did she. She found herself wondering how good he was at the game, but she didn't want it to be just a game. Not with him. What made her think he was willing to invest more of himself into them? The fact that one statement, spoken through the anguish of a broken heart, had sent him here because he had never taken the time to consider that she was as much in love with him as he was with her. _Stupid idiot_. Knowing that she did love him would definitely change things for him.

The knock was soft. Not a cop's knock at all. Hell, it wasn't even _his_ knock. But she knew he was the one at the door. He wouldn't knock a second time. He was still very uncertain...

She crossed the room, turning on the desk lamp as she passed it, and opened the door. He was pacing in the hallway, again lost in thought. She had to struggle not to laugh. "Get in here, Goren."

He looked up, unaware that she had opened the door. "Oh, Eames. I..."

"Don't say it. I told you I'd be waiting, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did."

"Well, then get in here."

He was ready to kick himself. _Idiot squared_, he scolded himself. He passed her, stopping in the middle of the room, not quite sure what to do next. Eames watched him, annoyed. "How the hell can you be so damn smooth with every other woman at One PP, and yet so lost with me?"

He slid his hand over his head, clamping it behind his neck. "You are not every other woman, and I'm not in love with any other woman. I, uh, I don't want to get myself smacked."

She fought down a smile. "If you don't want to get smacked, sit down."

When he moved toward the chair near the balcony door, she added, "On the bed, Bobby. You are not going outside again tonight."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Because I'm damn tired of being cold, that's why."

She saw the smile crop up in his eyes, even though his words said, "Sorry."

"Are you? Are you sorry for throwing me in the surf?"

"Uh, no."

"Are you sorry for kissing me in the surf?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh...no."

She smiled. "Good answer. Now quit apologizing for nothing and sit down."

He sat lightly on the side of the bed. She was pleased beyond words to see that some of his natural spring and grace had returned. She sat beside him, watching him. His discomfort both amused and annoyed her.

He fidgeted awkwardly. He felt like a teenager again and he hated that. "Um, I did some thinking."

"Of course you did. Did anything come of it this time?"

"Kind of. I need to know..uh, where you...er, what you...aw hell..."

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Why was it so hard to ask her a simple question? Just a few simple words: _What do you want me to do?_ Easy...if his mind would cooperate and let his mouth speak the words. His entire body tensed when her breath sighed past his ear. He felt his damn heart quicken. He almost fell off the bed when her tongue slid over his ear. "Eames," he muttered, his voice husky with emotion. "What...what do you..." He trailed off, unable to concentrate.

"What do I want? Just honesty. Simple honesty."

"Ok." She was nuzzling his neck now. "I...um...I can do...that..."

"Do what?"

"Whatever you..." Her lips trailed from his ear...along his jaw..."...want..." ...to his mouth...

His arms encircled her as her mouth claimed his and he gently eased her back onto the mattress. But he kept enough control to hold back, to take his time. He was going to savor...everything... He had told her sex was not love because it never had been, but now...now he used his skill to let her know exactly how much he did love her. For the first time in his life, it was love that drove him, and only love.

She knew and understood the phrase "exquisite torture," but she had never _experienced_ it...until now. She had no idea how he did it, but his touch left a trail of fire burning across her skin. His lips and tongue set her whole body on fire. Whoever coined the phrase "burning passion" must have known him. Her mind went into overdrive, and she lost track of everything but him.

-----------------------------------------------

She settled her body against his, exhausted and drifting in and out of sleep. His arm was snug around her and she rested her head against the curve of his shoulder. With his free hand, he continued to explore her body...the curve of her hip, the gentle swell in her abdomen that would never quite go back the way it was before she had given birth. He had not failed to notice the changes in her body when she'd carried her sister's son, and he was pleased that all those changes had not vanished. He nuzzled her neck and muttered sleepily, "This is the part where I wake up and I'm all alone."

"You've had this dream before?"

"Many times. It always ends the same."

"Does it? So what's going to happen when it turns out differently this time?"

"Hmm...I guess I'll just have to...be happy."

His fingers caressed her side, over her hip, along her thigh. She shuddered and he kissed her neck. "Aren't you tired?" she asked with a laugh.

"I was...but not any more."

"Oh? What changed?"

He let his fingers continue their journey as he answered, "My whole life."

She turned over in his arms, pulling him close into a hug before kissing him deeply. "Are you sure this is what you want?" she whispered into his ear, teasing him with a gentle nip to his earlobe.

"Absolutely. And you?"

His touch was burning again and she groaned. She didn't say a single word, but he understood her reply. There was no way he could misinterpret the response of her body to his. Body to body, heart to heart, they were one.


	13. Undamaged By the Storms

Early the next morning, as it rose from beyond the sea, the sun sent its rays streaming into the room through the open curtain. She slipped from his arms without waking him and pulled the curtains closed. Turning back toward the bed, she watched him sleep. His face was relaxed and for the first time she could remember he was not troubled. She had often seen him toss restlessly, plagued by nightmares he would not discuss. But last night he had slept, deeply and peacefully, holding her in his arms, safe against his chest.

Returning to the bed, she lightly fingered his hair, but he didn't stir. Kissing his temple, she quietly dressed and wrote a quick note. _Gone to get breakfast. Hope you're in the mood for waffles. Be right back._ She placed the note on the pillow and slipped silently out the door.

She walked slowly down to the diner, letting her mind dwell on him. He was more relaxed than she had ever seen him, and she'd never known him to smile so readily. It wasn't the same smile she saw in the squadroom, either. She had rarely seen this smile before. She got breakfast for both of them--waffles, with bacon and sausage for him and fruit for her, and coffee. Gotta have the coffee.

When she got back to the room, she was very surprised to find him still sound asleep, still resting on his side where she had left him. She wondered how long it had been since he'd slept well. She set the food out on the table and brought in an extra chair from the balcony. Then she sat beside him on the bed. She traced the side of his face with her finger, leaned down and softly kissed him. His breathing changed and he rolled onto his back, slowly opening his eyes. She rested her fingers against his lips and smiled at him. "Good morning."

He kissed her fingers. "You're still here."

"Yep. And so are you. Did you sleep well?"

He nodded. "You?"

"Yes, I did. I got breakfast. Come and eat."

He sighed, content, as he watched her walk to the table. Getting up and dressing, he came up behind her and kissed the top of her head. "You slept well," she commented. "You've never slept like that, not that I've seen."

"Well," he said with a slight shrug, sitting down and looking at her. "You...you chase away the nightmares."

"I may not always be able to do that."

"No, you won't. But I'll settle for some of the time over none of the time any day."

She accepted that. At least he was realistic about it. She took a bite of melon and quietly asked, "Can I tell you something? This has really been bothering me."

"Ok." He sounded tentative.

"Last night, you said that you were like your dad. I don't see that, and I never have."

"He was a player. He took what he wanted, or thought he needed, and moved on. He used women for his own purposes without ever investing himself in them. I...I worked along those lines, because I never let myself get invested in anyone. I never opened myself to any of them."

"You think you used them?"

"In a way, I did."

"Bullshit, Bobby. You entered into relationships looking for the right one. That's not usery. You're nothing like your old man. It's not your fault you've been afraid to get close. That was his fault. Ok, he was a bastard for leaving your mom and deserting you, and maybe he wasn't capable of love, but that's not you. If you weren't capable of love, we wouldn't be here...and last night would never have happened."

He looked down at his hands. "I...I do love you."

"Then you're not like your dad, are you?"

"N-not any more."

"I'm sorry but I'll never believe you used any of your girlfriends. Annie said she started to love you. There was a reason for that."

"Like I said, I was good at playing the game."

"And you never cared?"

"I...I never said I didn't care. I just...couldn't love."

"Well, then, there's the difference. You have a good heart, Bobby. I can't believe you ever intended to hurt anyone."

"No. No, I never did. But that doesn't change the fact that I did hurt them."

"So why am I different?"

"I-I don't know. You're my partner. I never meant to fall in love. That caught me by surprise."

"So this isn't a game any more? It's not just sex?"

"What? How...how can you ask that? You know me, Eames, better than anyone."

"You said you were very good at playing the game."

He shook his head. "Not that good. I could never pretend to love when I didn't. I-I'm not pretending with you, about anything. You'd see right through me." He shifted uncomfortably on the chair. "I...I am done with the game. I decided that the other night. I've had it with playing and hurting and being hurt. I can't do it any more."

"See? You're not like your dad at all. He never pulled himself from the game."

"He never fell in love, either. Maybe if he had, things would have been different. My brother and I came along because Mom wanted us, not because he did."

She leaned back and looked at him. "You really do love me, don't you?"

"I would never tell you I did if I didn't. Why?"

"You're talking to me, and you're not looking for a hole to crawl into."

He laughed. "Eames, if you haven't gone running by now, I guess you never will."

"You can count on that, Goren."

She leaned closer and gently kissed him. Leaning her forehead against his, she said, "So you've given up your game. Does that mean you don't like to play any more?"

"That depends on what you mean by that."

"Would you like to find out?"

He laughed and followed her to the bed. Neither of them gave another thought to breakfast.

------------------------------------------------------

The waves broke and crashed onto the beach. The water raced across the sand and then retreated. She was sitting above the watermark, tracing figures in the sand with a stick. He came up behind her and dropped to his knees, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek. She leaned back into him, resting her arms on his thighs. Into her ear, he whispered, "I have something for you."

"Oh?"

He held his hand out and opened it, revealing the shell he'd found tumbling in the surf after the storm. He spoke softly, his mouth still right by her ear. "I found it in the surf, but it's still perfect. It was tossed about in the storm, but it hadn't been there long enough to have been damaged by sand and water. I, uh, I thought about you. You've been here, by my side, for four years, but you're still undamaged by the storms that torment me. You've actually helped to calm my storms." He kissed the side of her neck. "You've always given me...stability. I didn't realize it until you went on maternity leave, and you weren't there. That's when I knew how much I needed you."

She took the shell, turning it over in her hands. "Is that when you knew you loved me?"

"No. I've loved you for much longer than that. I just didn't know how much I needed you."

He sat down, pulling her back into him and sliding his arms around her, holding her close. He rested his head against hers, breathing in the scent of her. Absently, her fingers traced circles on his legs through his jeans as she watched the ocean. She sighed softly. "It's almost dark, and we haven't had dinner."

"Later," he murmured against her head.

"Why later?"

"I just want to sit here on the beach with you for a little while." He slipped his hand under her shirt and gently caressed the soft skin of her abdomen. "I like the way you've kept some of the fullness of your pregnancy," he whispered as he gently ran his fingers overher stomach.

"You do?"

"Mm-hmm. It looks good on you." He kissed her temple. "Would you ever go through that again?"

"Being a surrogate?"

"No. Having a baby...only this time you'd be able to keep him."

She felt an involuntary tremor shiver through her body. His arms tightened around her. "I can't answer that question. I don't know if I'll ever have the chance to have a baby."

"But if you had the chance?"

"I would love to have a baby of my own."

He leaned forward over her shoulder, trying to see her face, but she wouldn't cooperate and turn her head toward him. So he reached his hand up and touched her chin, turning her face so he could see it. She didn't resist. With a thumb, he wiped away the single tear that trailed its way down over her cheekbone. "Maybe someday," he whispered as he leaned her back and kissed her.

She broke the kiss and turned into him, drawing an unsteady breath. She rested her head against his chest, comforted by the feel of his heart beating beneath her cheek. "What about you, Bobby? Would you like a baby of your own?"

"Yes." He hadn't even hesitated. "Someday."

They fell into a comfortable silence. She nestled into his arms, head resting against his chest, and he held her, gently rubbing her back and watching the ocean waves break upon the sand. After awhile they decided it was time for dinner. He got up, helped her to her feet and, hand in hand, they left the beach.


	14. Back to Normal

Sunday morning broke with a gentle rain falling. The sky brightened, but the sun could not penetrate the heavy clouds. Gradually, the wind began to pick up, and the deep rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

In his room, she rolled over in her sleep, settling her back against him and sighing when his arms pulled her closer and he kissed her neck. He was awake, listening to the approaching storm. He lightly caressed her abdomen, drawing comfort from her closeness. This was where he had wanted her to be for almost as long as he'd known her. Two nights now, he had slept without dreaming, and when he woke, she did not dissolve into nothing, leaving him alone and lonely. He allowed his hand to stray from her abdomen, smiling when she stirred in her sleep. A few more minutes and she turned again, back toward him, seeking his lips with hers. "Good morning," she whispered.

"Yes, it is," he replied, closing his mouth over hers again.

-----------------------------------------------------

He had just come out of the shower. Dressed only in jeans, he was drying his hair when a knock sounded at the door. Draping the towel over his shoulders, he opened it. Carrie and Freddie smiled at him. He smiled back. "Hey, kids."

"You're checking out this afternoon, aren't you?" Carrie asked.

"Yeah. I've got to get back to work."

"Mom said your partner checked in the other day," Freddie said, eyes dancing with excitement.

"Yes, she did."

"Would you both join us for lunch before you leave?"

"Please," Freddie begged.

He rubbed the back of his head, pretending to think about it. "I'll check with her..."

"Aw, come on," Freddie started bouncing in the hall. "I wanna meet her!"

Goren laughed. "Ok. What time?"

"12:30."

"We'll be there."

"Great!"

They headed down the hall, and Carrie said to her brother, "Geez, Freddie, you're such a dweeb."

"What? I do wanna meet her."

He closed the door, laughing softly. "Who was that?" Eames asked as she came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel.

"The owner's kids. They want us to join them for lunch before we head back to the city."

"That's a generous offer."

"Freddie is dying to meet you, it seems. He didn't really give much thought to girl cops until I told him about you."

"Told him what about me?"

"All I said was you're a good partner." He put his arms around her. "The best partner I've ever had, in fact."

"That's just because I let you take a case and run with it."

"You let me run with a case, and you don't have to sprint to keep up."

"Nope. I just follow along in your wake until the pieces fall in place. Sometimes they fall faster than others, but I always get the picture."

He pushed her hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger near her jaw. She saw the flame burning in his eyes, and she trembled at the thought of the touch that would follow. She caught her breath as the fire started and the towel slipped to the floor.

-----------------------------------------------------

They arived for lunch a few minutes early so he could introduce Eames to the kids. Carrie led them into the living room to wait until her mother called them to eat. On one side of the room, sitting with Goren, Freddie stared at Eames with an odd look. "What's the matter, Freddie?" Goren asked.

"She doesn't look much like a cop."

"That's what makes her a great cop."

"But Carrie's bigger than she is."

"Size doesn't matter. I'd rather tangle with a man twice her size than get on the wrong side of her."

On the other side of the room, Carrie leaned toward Eames. "What is he like as a partner?" she asked.

Eames smiled. "Well, I can honestly say I have never had a partner like him before."

"You never had a guy partner?"

"No, all of my partners have been guys. Just none have been quite like Bobby."

"What makes him different?"

"You know, that's hard to pin down. He's smarter than anyone I know, and he's a great cop. He's not one to go for his gun at the first sign of trouble. More cops should be like he is."

Martha poked her head into the room. "I hope they aren't bothering you too much," she said.

Goren smiled as Eames replied, "No, not at all."

"Lunch is ready whenever you are. Let's go, kids. Set the table."

Freddie started to protest, but his sister gave him a shove toward the door. "All right, I'm going!" he snapped.

Laughing, Eames looked at Goren. "Nice kids."

"Yeah, they are." He pushed open the door to the dining room, holding it open for her. As she passed him, he rested his hand on her back as she trailed her fingers across his abdomen. He sighed happily and followed her into the room.

-----------------------------------------------------

It came as no surprise Monday morning when they walked into the squad room and Deakins hollared for them to get into his office. Once they were seated, he looked from one detective to the other, his eyes finally coming to rest on Goren. "You look good. How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Have you dealt with whatever crisis you had last week?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything else I need to know?"

"No."

He looked at Eames. "I take it you knocked some sense into him."

"Of course," she smiled. "He'll behave now."

Goren glanced at her, an amused gleam in his eye. Deakins studied them, eyes shifting from one to the other. "So everything is ok, now?"

Goren nodded as Eames answered, "Everything is fine."

He looked back at Goren. "Do you want to tell me what was wrong?"

"Uh, no, not particularly."

"But you've got your head back on straight?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"All right, but next time you feel yourself slipping, call your partner, will ya?"

Goren looked at her, half a smile on his face. "All right, Captain. I will."

"Go find something to do. Next case that comes in is yours."

They left the captain's office. "There better not _be_ a next time," Eames warned.

"Oh, I don't know. I kinda had a good time," he muttered, leaning closer to her.

She elbowed him and he laughed as he walked around to his desk. She sat down but looked up at him and smiled. He winked at her as he pulled a stack of files from his inbox and opened the first one.

From his office, Deakins watched his best team at their desks. Something was different. There was an ease to Goren's manner he'd never seen before. He wondered what had happened, but he had a feeling that was something he would never find out. He watched Eames throw a paper clip at her partner. Goren looked up and listened to what she had to say. He laughed, made a comment and returned to whatever it was he'd been doing. Deakins laughed to himself when Eames stuck her tongue out at him and picked up the phone. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Everything was back to normal.

_fin_.


End file.
